


Sympathy from the Devil

by Stella_STARgazer



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Hints of Freakytits - Freeform, Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella_STARgazer/pseuds/Stella_STARgazer
Summary: Set during 2x6 when Joan brings Vera dinner at home. An extension of that scene.





	Sympathy from the Devil

_ “These orange ones are supposed to knock out a horse….” _

How quickly the cordial smile is replaced by a Machiavellian smirk as her naive deputy disappears from the kitchen. Her shrewd gaze falls to the rainbow Pandora’s box laying atop the counter; the plastic safehouse for the blessed orange pills. It’s not why she originally came here, but the pieces always fall so beautifully into place when you’re working towards the greater good.  _ Carpe diem,  _ as they say.

Wednesday. Thursday.

The boxes empty into the palm of her hand as she casts a cautionary gaze toward the hall before slipping the pretty poison into her pocket. In a few hours time these magic little beauties will incapacitate Simmo Slater for an easy murder, ensuring Bea Smith will remain as her prize Top Dog. What’s one death, when it’s a sacrifice to save the many? Besides, she’ll only be giving Slater what she so obviously longs for.

Casting her future dastardly deeds aside, she returns to the task at hand as she finishes chopping the head of lettuce and moves about the surprisingly tidy kitchen in search of dishes to plate her offering.

_ “It’s just, she’s extremely, umm….she has a strong personality.” _

The comment, or more specifically Vera’s delivery of it, had sparked her curiosity, compelling her to come here this evening. Observant to a fault, she had immediately picked up on the slight hesitation in Vera’s voice and sensed the tension that radiated from the younger woman at the mention of her mother. Finding her deputy curiously enthralling and on a constant prowl for information to use to her advantage, she decided to make a house call to the younger woman to see what information she might glean from the unannounced visit.

It took just thirty seconds in Rita Bennett’s presence to determine she was a bitter cunt with a venomous tongue and spiteful nature. And it took less time than that to tell her so, as she leaned in close when the opportunity presented itself so perfectly. She knew the old hag would be too dumbstruck by the comment to make any sort of rebuttal and she could barely keep the smug grin from her lips as she rose from the bed. The germs on her hand were well worth the look of horrified shock on the bitch’s face.

What struck her though, was the surprising amount of sympathy she felt for Vera and how the caustic words from the elder Bennett provoked an immediate urge to defend her mousy deputy. It was obvious now, the root of all the petite woman’s insecurities, and she had to force herself not to dwell on the similarities between them.

Vera reappears in the kitchen just as Joan places the two plated meals and fresh pot of tea on the table. She looks up and offers a small smile, as Vera approaches. “She’s fallen asleep, so I’ll have to feed her later.”  _ Thank God _ is conveyed in a measured sigh and innocent blue eyes. Joan notices the exhaustion etched deeply in the lines of the younger woman’s forehead; they’ve seemed to multiple in the hours since she left work.  _ Not surprising  _ she thinks to herself as she watches the weary woman awkwardly wring her hands as she stands a few paces away. Something about the image (a flashback of Jianna, that she conveniently ignores) sparks a kinder streak from the usually stern woman and she nods and takes the second plate back to the fridge before returning to the table. “Then sit; eat.” She gestures to the chair opposite.

To Vera’s surprise, Joan draws out the chair in front of her and takes a seat, pouring them each a mug of tea as she settles in. Vera assumed she’d run as soon as she had the chance to, but truthfully, she’s grateful for the company and the distraction from her mother. Tentatively, she follows the command, pulling up the chair and taking the fork in her hand. “Thanks again for this, Governor. I really appreciate it.” She offers gratitude in a sheepish half-whisper. “Don’t mention it.” Joan replies over the rim of her cup, observing the younger woman and the faint gloss that’s appeared in her ocean eyes.

They sit for a long moment in silence as Vera awkwardly consumes the meal, Joan’s watchful gaze never leaving the smaller woman. Aside from the few debriefs they’ve shared at work, they’ve not spent much time alone and Vera finds herself at a loss for a topic of conversation. To her relief, Joan breaks the silence, though the topic isn’t of much entertainment.

“How long has she been ill?” She asks abruptly.

“Umm, just over eight months. When she was diagnosed, the doctors said it was likely she wouldn’t make it six, but...she’s still fighting.” Joan catches the hint of resentment in Vera’s voice and her espresso eyes narrow slightly as she fixes her deputy with a curious gaze.

“And you’ve been caring for her on your own, aside from the nurse you hired to be here while you’re at the prison?”

“Yes. I can’t afford to keep her on in the evenings, so I manage them myself.” She tries her best not to let the bitterness invade her voice; she’s sworn she’ll never sound like her mother.

“Is there no other family that can help share the  _ burden _ ?” There’s a purpose to her diction and a telling look in her hawkish umber eyes.

“No. I have no siblings and mum’s brother died and her older sister, umm, well...they’re not on speaking terms.”

“Ah.” She lets the silence linger for a moment as she watches Vera down the slope of her regal nose, an idle porcelain finger tracing circles around the rim of her cup. “So she’s always been that cruel.” Lioness by nature, she goes straight for the throat when her prey least expects it. Vera’s eyes widen in surprise as she meets Joan’s sagacious stare. She knows there’s no use lying, especially after her mother’s embarrassing display.

“Yes.” She replies after a long pause, offering no further explanation or excuse. Her eyes fall to the fork that she nervously rolls in her fingers as the guilt of the admission sinks in and she says a silent pray that Joan will drop the topic. The governor watches her for a long moment, recognizing the tormented expression on her deputy’s face as a mirror of her own so many years ago.

Settling further into her seat, she crosses a long leg over the other as she draws the mug of tea to her bowed lips. A rare bout of sympathy steers her line of conversation. “You didn’t take my advice, Vera” she husks in a slightly admonishing tone, sculpted brow arching high above a narrowed espresso gaze. Confused by the remark, but leary of the tone, Vera swallows hard as she responds. “I’m sorry?”

“When I told you to be sure to take time for yourself.” A hint of condescension colors her honeyed timber as she drops her chin and fixes Vera with a pointed look.

Her cheeks grow rosy at the slight reprimand and she drops her gaze once more to the table. “I, umm, well….” words dissolve on her tongue when an excuse is not forthcoming. Really, how could she make time for herself when she has a dying mother?

Joan finds herself unexpectedly stirred by the vulnerable, defeated figure as Vera practically curls in on herself in the chair. Placing her mug on the table she leans forward slightly and offers a sliver of salvation. “Why don’t you go and run a bath or at least take a long, hot shower. I’ll stay, clean this up and if your mother should wake, I’ll take care of her.”

Vera’s gaze snaps quickly from the table, brows knitted tightly as she vehemently shakes her head. “No governor, you don’t need to do that. I don’t want to put you through the trouble, and I’m, I’m fi-” She lies unconvincingly, even as the prospect of a bit of reprieve sends a wave of overwhelming relief through her shattered body.

Joan cuts her off with a steady ivory palm. “Ah-ah. That wasn’t a suggestion, Vera, it was an order.” Dropping her hand, she softens her tone slightly. “You deserve a break...and I need you well rested at work. Go. I can handle your mother.”

Dumbstruck, Vera simply stares for a moment as her brain tries to process this seemingly unprovoked act of kindness. Eventually growing glossy-eyed, she nods with a small smile and whispered thanks before she rises from the chair. Joan offers a slight smile in return and nods again, indicating her approval. She watches Vera disappear from the room, notices the hand that lifts to her face as she turns the corner, and she knows the younger woman has started to cry. A wave a pity washes through her, but she shakes it loose and rises from the table to clean the kitchen.

As she stands drying the last of the dishes, a wail from Banshee Bennett floats into the room and she closes her eyes, tongue thrusting against the inside of her bottom lip as she prepares to go and deal with the withered monster. Waltzing into the bedroom door as she dries her hands, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she lets her formidable presence do the talking. Rita strains to crane her neck to see the door and beady, blue eyes grow wide as she sees Joan standing there.

“Where’s Vera? I need Vera.” Rita croaks as she shifts the blankets higher around her waist, as if the thin cotton can protect her from the mighty Joan Ferguson. Joan takes a single step into the room, but with her long stride she ends up halfway to the bed. Rita visibly shifts, recoiling from Joan’s presence as much as she can within the confines of her sick bed.

“She’s having a bath. Is there something you need?” Joan asks with thinly veiled irritation.

“She said she was going to bring me dinner. Didn’t you bring something?”

“I did, but you fell asleep and we ate it. I can provide you with some of that  _ muck _ she feeds you, if you like?” Coal black eyes twinkle with mischief, but she keeps her expression neutral as she steps closer to the foot of the bed, directly within Rita’s line of vision.

Rita curls her lip in anger, “No, I get enough of that every day.”

“Suit yourself.” She replies lackadaisically, before her features shift into a haunting expression. “You know, Mrs. Bennett, you should really be kinder to your daughter. Your life is in her hands, after all.” With a smirk she moves back towards the door as Rita watches her in angry confusion.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” She quips before releasing a long bout of sputtering coughs. Joan ignores her query, wanting to leave the old hag marinating on the pointed words.

“Well, I think you need your rest. As does Vera. Sleep well, Mrs. Bennett. Vera will see you in the morning.” Her tone indicates a finality to the exchange and Rita’s learned quick and knows better than to argue. With a nod and feigned smile Joan steps out of the room and closes the door.

Eventually Vera makes her way back down from the shower to find Joan seated at the table, nursing a final cup of tea. The older woman looks up from her mug and offers a small smile as she watches Vera enter the room in her blue striped lounge pants and pale pink t-shirt.

“See, you look more relaxed already.” She hums with a sly smile as she slides a cup of tea across the table, gesturing to Vera with a lifting of her exquisite eyebrows.

Vera approaches and takes a seat with a smile. “Yes, I really needed that. Thank you.” Vera takes a sip of tea and closes her eyes as it warms a path down her throat and settles soothingly into her stomach. “Did mum wake?” She asks as she opens her now vibrant ocean eyes.

“Not a peep.” Joan lies convincingly and Vera smiles with a small giggle as she sees the attractive smirk cross Joan’s sly lips. She’s never seen her so relaxed before and she finds the image surprisingly appealing.

“Thank you again, governor. I truly appreciate your kindness.” Vera replies shyly.

“There’s no need to thank me; you needed the break. And Vera, when it’s just the two of us, you can call me Joan.” She smiles indulgently as she watches the swath of pink paint across the apple of Vera’s cheeks and notices how prettily it sets off the blue of her wide eyes.

“Well, it’s getting late, so I should go.” She feels the pull of sentimentality tugging at her insides and knows it’s time to take her leave before this reconnaissance mission turns into self-sabotage.

Rising from the table she deposits her mug in the sink and turns to collect her purse and coat draped across a chair at the table. Vera scrambles to her feet and follows her to the door, standing awkwardly behind Joan as she steps onto the landing.

“She’s wrong, you know.” Joan suddenly states as she turns to face Vera on the step, causing the diminutive woman to look up with a confused expression.

“Who’s wrong?” Vera queries with a confused shake of her head.

“Your mother. You are capable, and you’re a fine deputy. You have good instincts, Vera. You just need to learn to trust them and not be afraid to act.” Like March, she comes in like a lion, but goes out like a lamb. The sincerity of her tone and in her usually stern dark eyes catches Vera by surprise and the gloss of a tidal wave of tears quickly fills her seafoam eyes. She nods briskly and looks to Joan with a whispered  _ Thank you _ as she blinks the salty drops away.

Joan offers a small smile and gentle squeeze to Vera’s forearm. “Good night, Vera. Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.” Releasing her grasp, she gives a final nod before leaving Vera awestruck in her wake.


End file.
